


All's Fair

by JazzRaft



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-22 04:13:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16590647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: ...in love and war, but Ravus has only ever known war. When Niflheim announces an end to hostilities, he has no idea where that leaves him. [fills for #ravusweek]





	1. Peace and Quiet and Tea

“You’re late.”

“As are you, brother.”

Ravus’s brow creased over the paper, eyes scraping through the uniformed text while Luna settled. “I sat down at precisely two o’ clock, as always,” he argued, glaring at a particularly aggravating statement criticizing a successful scouting expedition into Northern Niflheim – if it was so successful, what was there to criticize for five pages?

“That may be so, _but_ …”

One, fine finger cut through the print on the top of the report, pressing it downwards with all the forceful delicacy of a raindrop punching through the paper. Ravus was forced to trade Besithia’s black-and-white blathering for the blue balm of his sister’s stare.

“You haven’t really been here,” Luna chided. “You may have arrived at two, but you still haven’t left work.”

“Very well,” Ravus sighed, conceding a half-hearted glare to go with his surrender. “We’re _both_ late.”

Luna smiled, appeased, and Ravus allowed her to remove the offending chronicle from his clawing grasp, his grip having grown sharper and sharper with every pass over a sentence, to the point where his nails could tear through the sheaves like scissors. Now, _there_ would be a response for the research division to titter about in their lab coats.

“As we’re both tardy, we best make the most of the time we have left, don’t you think?” Luna set aside the lead researcher’s report with a little wrinkle of her nose. “This is certainly making less of it.”

Ravus snorted in agreement, letting his shoulders slip lower towards the table as the report was dropped underneath it, out of sight and, mercifully, out of mind. Luna lifted a hand to their server, standing still as a garden statue in the corner of the gazebo. Ravus had forgotten he was there. With a look, Ravus demanded his silence in regards to the profane mutterings he may or may not have cursed at Besithia in the past twenty minutes.

“You’re still at work, brother,” Luna scolded him, light as a schoolteacher reprimanding the minor crimes of a child.

“I _am_ my work, sister,” he quipped.

“Work on your tea.”

The pristine, ivory cups that their mother had always favored, embellished with the old crest of Tenebrae – a symbol the Empire all but erased from the world outside of Fenestala Manor – were carefully filled with the pale, blue brew of sylleblossom tea. Sweet spirals of steam danced up from the cups to court the gentle, floral drifts of wind through the garden. Luna’s soft thanks dismissed the server back to the shade of the gazebo, and the Fleuret siblings were, virtually, left to themselves in the vast, indigo field of childhood blooms.

“We have much to celebrate,” Luna said, stirring a teaspoon of honey into her cup; Ravus dropped a wedge of lemon into his. “This may well be the last bit of quiet time we have together for a while.”

While Ravus was none too pleased by the inevitable chaos to his comfortable schedule that the recent news would bring, he tipped his cup towards Luna in cheers, nevertheless.

“I don’t relish the thought of these new proceedings cutting into our afternoon tea together, but I agree. We have much to celebrate.”

Luna smiled and, at last, it wasn’t forced. The serenity which softened the edges was no longer burdened by the despair she’d learned to hide behind her white dresses and pretty words. At last, rather than toasting to the memory of their dead mother, their lost childhood, their tarnished past, as had been their solemn tradition for tea, today, instead, they toasted to the future.

“To peace,” Luna said.

He was still skeptical of the news. He was wary by design, distrustful by experience – living under the Empire left him no one to rely on but himself – and he was hesitant to trust even that. If it was a lie, if the Emperor’s concession was not miraculously without motive, there was not a court order that could spare them from his avenging Luna’s broken heart over the deceit.

But that was a plan for tomorrow, next week, next year, next time the Empire betrayed their allies. For now, with the promise of peace whispering across the kingdom, he let himself believe her happiness might last. He lifted his cup.

“To peace.”


	2. Party Pooper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the announcement of peace across the land, the Emperor throws a party. Unfortunately for Ravus, Aranea was invited.

“Now I know why we’d call you all ‘stiffs.’ This is like wearing cardboard.”

Aranea tried stretching her arms over her head, holding them like two wooden planks within her formal suit – black, like a Lucian, which Ravus was certain was as much of an insult to the ivory bodies of Imperial echelon as it was a _warning_ to keep to the agreement they were all celebrating tonight.

The Emperor’s ballroom was trimmed and trapped like a birthday present, draped in alabaster banners and the frosty civility of Niflheim small talk. While most of Gralea was dressed in the façade of a celebration, the attendees of the Emperor’s court all milled about in a state of barely concealed tension.

All except for Aranea Highwind, of course. The commodore sighed, reclining back on her chair with her feet propped up on the table edge. “Still, it’s good to get a day off.” She swiped a glass of champagne from a passing server with the barest flick of her wrist. “Especially with the Emperor supplying free booze.”

“I wouldn’t get too comfortable,” Ravus groused. “We’ll be trading wine for rations again soon enough, once the Emperor tires of this smoke screen.”

“Damn. You _literally_ don’t know how to have fun, do you?”

Well, if he _did_ , being pestered by one of his least favorite people in Gralea for the entirety of the party certainly was not his idea of it. While the rest of his colleagues – soon to be strangers – and not soon enough – were at least _pretending_ to find reasons to celebrate, Ravus could not find it in him to rejoice when he was being overcome by the persistently annoying presence of one Aranea Highwind.

“You use that term far too liberally,” he bit back, in the earnest hope that he could out-annoy her into leaving him be… What a fool he was.

“You mean ‘damn?’”

“I mean ‘literally.’”

“Well _damn_ my _literally_ ‘liberal’ vocabulary if the High Commander doesn’t like it. Oh, wait! My mistake. It’s going to be _Prince_ again soon, isn’t it?”

Ravus’s fists crumbled up the fabric of his coat in the creases of his elbows. If the gods were good (they weren’t), Aranea would be long, _long_ gone, back to her derelict business of selling her services to whoever’s gil was good (gods be good – they weren’t – maybe that next job would send her and her crew straight to prison) before Tenebrae ever got to a point of independence where he could reclaim his former title.

“Do try not to incite too much controversy with talk like that. If this peace treaty is, in fact, _not_ a complete farce, I’d prefer to keep my head to see it.” The Emperor would gladly take his and Luna’s just to eliminate the power construct of royal families which had opposed him for his entire conquest.

“Now, _there_ would be something I could drink to.”

She raised a glass at him. He glared at her. That only seemed to make her happier. Suddenly, with the alarming acuity of a coeurl’s claws in his back, Aranea was on her feet and on him, arm locked around his waist and pushing him from his position of safe observance.

“But since your pretty head is going to be stuck to your head for the foreseeable future, might as well put it to good use remembering your dance steps.”

“Aranea, this is not that form of party.” There wasn’t even any music playing.

“It is when I’m invited. Now, straighten out, shut up, and enjoy the freedom, Commander. I’ll lead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr post!](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/179601503707/party-pooper)


	3. So this is fun...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ravus doesn’t have a hobby. Hard to have one when you’re fighting for your life every day. So, he files.

No one could believe it.

Least of all Ravus.

That this proposed peace from the Emperor could be without ulterior motive? That after hundreds of years of conquest, the Imperial machine was finally crawling to a stop? Its bloodlust sated? _Without_ the last, ambrosial taste of Insomnia to finish its palette?

Even as the army was decommissioned, even as he watched with his own two eyes as King and Emperor shook hands and walked away without knives in each other’s backs, even as he stood right next to his smiling sister as she announced to a frantic crowd, forever apprehensive of their rulers’ intentions, that peace was upon them, Ravus still didn’t believe it.

And even if he did… He had no idea what to do with himself.

The war was over. He was free. They were all free. He could go where he pleased, with whom he pleased, to do what he pleased… He had no idea what in the six hells would please him.

He thought he’d be pleased enough with the signing of the treaty, comforted enough by the quiet which followed, that he would need nothing else to satisfy him. But he’d spent so much time doubting that it was real, he never prepared himself for what he’d do if it was. He’d only prepared for the outcomes of violence, betrayal, coups and occupations. He’d prepared for hostages, raids, perhaps secret passages for his sister to escape the treachery.

He hadn’t prepared for the confetti. The cakes. The white banners of peace. The revival of Tenebrae’s crest on the flags of his people. The smiles. The embraces of Tenebraen and Lucian, unafraid of persecution under the new light.

He wasn’t ready for this new world without war, so sudden and unexpected as it was. He didn’t even know if he belonged in it.

So, while the world celebrated, Ravus did what he always did when he needed to think. The only thing that brought him any small shred of enjoyment.

“What in Ifrit’s name are you doing?”

Ravus inhaled through his nose and back out, eyes set on the metal cabinet in front of him. Of course, she would find a way to ruin even this small, mundanity of his life for him. He made a mental note to nap a lab technician before they were gone for good to scan him for a tracking device. How else did Aranea keep finding him?

“If we’re to be at peace, we should be at it organized,” Ravus said, slipping the file back into its place. “One file in the wrong hands and it all goes up in smoke.”

“Ravus…”

“ _Commander.”_

“ _Ravus_.”

Ah. Right. He wasn’t a high commander anymore. He had no army to command. She was right, then. He would never admit that she was. Not even to that miniscule sleight. He was still unused to hearing his own name amongst the colleagues which had been forced upon him for so much of his life. Let alone off of Aranea’s sharp tongue. It didn’t sound right. It almost sound _friendly_. That freaked him out.

“You need to lighten up,” Aranea told him, earning her a glare – much to her delight. “Alphabetizing storage reports is no one’s idea of fun.”

“It’s mine.”

It really was, now that he thought about it. It was monotonous, brainless work, to be sure. But in comparison to the murderous tumult of his own thoughts when he had to lead a magitek battalion into Lucis? Or in comparison to his homicidal fantasies when he had to stand there and listen to the chancellor applaud his own schemes in front of the emperor? Filing was a friggin’ _delight._

Aranea huffed – even the mildest of her frustrations pleased him. What did not, was when she stepped fully into the room and took up her station at the filing cabinet next to his.

“Fine, you’re idea of fun it is.”

Ravus stared at her, puzzled, and rather than be embarrassed – as if – Aranea quirked a brow at him and smirked, immediately putting his gaze back down to his own set of files. _Don’t ever let her see you sweat, Fleuret._

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be?” he grumbled, a pitiful attempt to get her to go away.

Aranea gestured at the gray filing room. “Here’s anywhere.”

Ravus huffed in annoyance, but didn’t argue further. To argue with Aranea about anything was an effort in futility. Still… he supposed it was – grit teeth – _nice_ not to be standing here alone. Not to be out of place with the idea of peacetime by himself.

Besides that, this might be one of the last times he had to suffer Aranea’s presence before she flew off to her next paycheck somewhere… He might as well relish it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr post!](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/179631403637/so-this-is-fun)


	4. Be Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The welcoming committee of Insomnia isn’t quite how Ravus imagined. In that, by some miracle, he can appreciate one’s devotion to his sister… barely.

“Have fun storming the castle!” Aranea had said, waving in a stilted mockery of the first secretary of Accordo (Ravus made a mental note to have her put on a no-fly list on any diplomatic missions to Altissia).

Yes, Highwind was still casting her barbed shadow throughout all the nooks and crannies of Tenebrae. Like a tumor, she seemed to have rooted herself to the spot, spreading her mischief like an infection now that it was left unchecked by the Empire’s contract. Ravus held no small amount of reservations about leaving Tenebrae while Aranea Highwind remained in residence. He held no small amount of reservations about leaving Tenebrae, period. Let alone without at least one Fleuret fortifying the manor from deception.

But, as he’d both feared and hoped, with peace now the law of the land came the chaos of making sure it stayed that way. That chaos came for him now, with the high beams of Insomnia’s obscene steel and glass skyline rising up to meet them.

The visit was inevitable, he’d always known this – whether he’d known it’d be under honest circumstances or duplicitous ones, Insomnia had always been in his future in some way or another. It was a bitter pill to swallow, having to keep his fists hidden and his sword sheathed in the very city King Regis had betrayed Ravus’s whole country for.

But Luna was ecstatic to see the city glinting in the sunrise as their ship approached. Even more to be greeted by the King’s favorite war-dogs when they landed on the strip. She failed to see the mistrust that Ravus did. That by sending the King’s Shield and his rabid pups to meet them, he was warning them of what may befall them should their visit to Insomnia go anything worse than perfect.

Luna didn’t see the claws in Iris Amicitia’s nails as they shook hands and made their introductions. She didn’t see the bared teeth in Gladiolus Amicitia’s grin as they were “welcomed” to the Crown City.

“Hope you came prepared to eat!” Iris was saying, holding Luna’s hand as if they were best friends within two minutes of meeting each other. “Cook rolled out the breakfast buffet to end all breakfast buffets back at our house.”

Ravus was ready to follow with a warning in Luna’s ear that it was likely poison, but his sister was spirited off behind the sudden obstruction of the elder Amicitia’s shoulders in Ravus’s way. Ah. Right. The cliché display of the macho Lucian’s dominance. What a charming country to have lost his own for.

“First time in Lucis, right?” Gladiolus said, eyes sharp as splinters of amber.

Must he really indulge this charade of amicable antagonizing? “Correct,” Ravus bit out, not in the least bit unnerved by the width of the man’s shoulders or the scar on his square face. “First time practicing your welcoming speech?”

“Incorrect,” he countered, the gruff mockery reminding him of Aranea’s teasing.

Ravus challenged his glare for as long as the sting of not blinking would allow, the voices of their sisters growing smaller and smaller across the tarmac. Finally, though still not blinking, Gladiolus said, “You’ll be meeting with the royal family later today. Consider my family practice for when you do.”

“Treat my family with the dignity she deserves, and _perhaps_ , I’ll consider doing the same to yours.”

Hah! Gladiolus blinked at that. His sister was a soft spot, of course she was, Ravus was all too familiar with the feeling. He was wholly devoted the peace accords if only for Luna’s sake. And he was wholly devoted to ensuring good relations between Tenebrae and Insomnia for the sake of her happiness as well. It would be like swallowing bile, no doubt about that, looking at the King on his pedestal, listening to him talk, knowing how completely unaffected by the war he was behind his Wall.

But he knew it would make Luna smile if Ravus was – he shuddered – _nice_ to the King and his brat. By the look in Amicitia’s eye, conceding to the distant sound of his own sister’s laughter, his devotion wasn’t at all dissimilar to his own.

“Hope you like pancakes,” he said, sweeping an arm in the direction of their siblings to follow.

_Hope you choke on them._

Given the fact that he didn’t say it out loud, Ravus thought that was progress. Hopefully, Luna would see it that way, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr post!](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/179658097437/be-nice)


	5. Radical Ravus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ravus takes a call. It doesn’t come with good news. He’s got a decision to make, and if it gives the world a heart attack in the process, well, all the better for him.

“A… _what?_ ”

“Yup.”

She popped the “p,” a small snap of displeasure through the static, so miniscule that it was almost an insult to the gravity of Ravus’s own irritation. He was too annoyed to find the nearest reflective surface, point to himself, and say, “ _I. Told. You. So._ ”

Of course it was all too good to be true. Of course the Empire would find one last way to spite his family, and the freedom they’d always dreamt of. While he supposed, in the grander scheme of things, it could always be worse – but he was _not_ about to challenge the universe by speaking _that_ into being – nevertheless, this was not the news he had been looking forward to hearing.

He should have known the second he recognized the blocked number that nothing good would come of picking up. He wondered, vaguely, if answering the damn phone proved him a masochist. Or just stupid.

“An arranged marriage,” he repeated, sounding just as dumb as he felt.

“Nothing screams peace like church bells and white doves, apparently,” Aranea snorted, disdainfully. For once, it sounded like the two of them were in agreement about something. “What are you going to do?”

Ravus stood in the hall outside the King’s throne room, brooding over a dismal piece of art depicting four friends staring out at a gray body of water between themselves and a city in the distance. He wished he could just reach his hand up, flick them each on the back of the head, and send them splashing into the sea.

“What I’m always forced to do,” he sighed, in through the nose and back out again. “For the good of House Fleuret. And for Lunafreya.”

“Whatever you’re going to do, you didn’t hear any of this from me,” Aranea said. “Good luck, Commander.”

Either the moniker was an old habit refusing to die hard, or it was heralding his return to war. In any case, he needed the brain of Niflheim’s High Commander now, more than he needed the face of Prince Fleuret. He needed to be quick, decisive; determine what the Empire had to gain by pulling such a stunt and figure out a way to undermine it. A way to keep the peace without letting them keep his sister as some trophy bride.

It wasn’t the match in spouse that concerned him so much as the making of Lunafreya into a chess piece, placed where they needed her whether she wanted to stand there or not. Luna still had her own calling to which she was devoted to, her own dreams to seek out and fulfill without the sacrifices demanded by the Six. Without the war, she was free to wander in search of those secrets, to study the old tomes forbidden from her prison under Niflheim rule, to save the world and every last, living soul in it.

The Empire wanted her to serve as Princess of Tenebrae, forsaking her destiny as Oracle of Eos. Ravus knew she would do anything for her homeland if it was demanded of her. But her heart was bigger than a single kingdom, her power bright enough to illuminate the whole world. Left in the confines of Fenestala Manor, she would dim to nothing.

Luna had a long future ahead of her if the peace were to hold.

Ravus… wasn’t entirely certain he did.

The most logical answer to his problem was not one that brought him any particular amount of joy. It wouldn’t come without its hardships, without the Empire’s ranting and railing against the proposal, and while he was certain the populace of Tenebrae was progressive enough not to abhor him the idea, he doubted Lucis would see his actions as heroic.

_Be nice._

Just beyond the doors in front of him, his sister was happily reuniting with the father figure they’d never had. King Regis was no source of paternal guidance for Ravus like he was for Luna. Nor was his son in any way a brother to him. He’d always hate Regis, he’d always resent Noctis a fair bit, but he supposed, for Lunafreya, he might be able to enforce his own indifference in this plot. He could make it work.

And besides, the look on the old man’s face when he marched into the throne room and announced, “I need to marry your son,” was a sweet enough form of vengeance to make it worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr post!](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/179687675527/radical-ravus)


	6. A Casual Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ravus dresses down to meet up with his potentially future husband.

“Ravus. No.”

“If that tone of voice did not change my mind the first fourteen times you used it, what makes you think the fifteenth will?”

Ravus made a point of staring straight ahead, less unnerved by the glower of his own reflection than by his sister’s sapphire gaze. He pitied the poor fool who ever fell under the ire of Luna’s usually placid eyes, the fount of mercy in merciless times. Ravus met the glare of that poor fool now, in the mirror, and silently pressed upon him the importance of standing by his decision, in spite of her displeasure.

“This is the only way…”

“It is _not_ ,” Luna insisted. “If the Empire must have a wedding to ensure peace, then I have no objections to marrying Noctis.”

_I do._

Not that his opinions had any strength against his sibling’s stubbornness. Especially not in regards to her fondness for the Crown Prince. While they both knew that the suitor was by no means too great of a price to pay for peace – if his glowing reputation was to be believed, Noctis was not likely to be a tyrant of a husband or anything so vile – Ravus could see the future just as clearly as if he was the Oracle himself.

Luna would be overjoyed to wed her childhood friend, a gentle and loyal companion (read: weak-willed and unable to think for himself – if he could think at all), and she would gladly fulfill her role as the Princess of Tenebrae for the sake of all the kingdoms’ freedom. But for all of her grace and intelligence and diplomatic virtues, she didn’t understand the Empire quite the same as Ravus did.

He knew this caveat to the peace accords wasn’t so simple as to be a gesture of good will – the Empire was neither good nor willing to gesture towards Lucis in any form less than an obscenity. This betrothal was their way of collaring the two nations to their own terms. It was no different than allowing Tenebrae its “autonomy,” letting them keep their name and their Oracle, but all on a short leash that still ended at the Empire’s fist.

So, yes, while Luna may have had no objections to the arrangement, Ravus had plenty. And though he wasn’t particularly pleased with his solution to the problem, suffering an alliance with King Regis’s brat to give both Luna her freedom and Tenebrae its independence under a rightful ruler that the Empire had no grounds to deny… It seemed like the path of least resistance.

If Luna would just let him leave already.

“If Prince Noctis is amenable to the idea, we can, for once, get ahead of the Empire and make short of this conspiracy.”

“And if he’s not? ‘Amenable?’”

There was an added look in Luna’s eye that said, “To _you_?” Because they both knew Ravus had never been the first choice for political maneuvers. It wasn’t a fact he let wound his pride. He wasn’t so petty as to begrudge his sister the people’s admiration. He held her in just as high of a regard. And himself just as low.

“I will do my utmost to make him so. Why else do you think I’m dressing _down_ for the occasion?”

He hoped to at least humanize himself to Noctis with the dull ordinariness of halfway decent casualwear. (Ravus was acutely aware that his repressed social skills weren’t likely to do him any favors.) He hadn’t put a great deal of thought into the outfit, merely dissected a quick scroll through some celebrity social feeds to pick and choose the most common variables of city streetwear. But he thought he had a passable disguise of “hey, look, I’m just like you.”

Some decent oxfords, gray jeans – _denim_ , ugh, why did commoners suffer this sort of chafing every day? – a pale blue polo, and a light gray blazer – not quite as severe in colorlessness as Niflheim’s banners; the less he looked like a Nif during this encounter, the better.

Ravus tugged the blazer straight, scrutinizing the figure in the mirror. Well, he didn’t look like the High Commander of Niflheim’s magitek army, anticipating the vengeful razing of Insomnia at one word from his overlord. But he wasn’t sure he looked approachable enough for the reticent prince.

Luna sighed. Her reflection filled the space over his shoulder, delicate fingers gathering his hair back from his face. As she arranged the pale locks into a tail, Ravus finally gave into the pressure of her stare in the mirror.

“If you insist upon doing this,” Luna said. “Do _try_ to show Noctis the utmost courtesy. Remember that this isn’t merely your own life that’s about to change.”

He had a proposal for that too. While Prince Noctis’s happiness paled on his list of priorities, Ravus was fully aware of the Lucian public’s affection for him. They wanted his freedom as much as Ravus wanted Luna’s. If his predictions and placements were carried out without the Empire’s interference, he saw no reason why Noctis couldn’t have it.

He just had to make sure Noctis was a willing participant.

Which meant being “courteous” to the Crown Prince.

Surely, he could swallow his revulsion for all things Lucian just long enough to manage that much.

* * *

“Must you keep gawking like a hooked sea bass?”

“Sorry,” Noctis chuckled. “I’ve just never seen you look so normal.”

He hadn’t seen him since Tenebrae burned and Regis fled with his squirming son as Ravus’s mother was slain inches from his own face. But that wasn’t a _courteous_ topic of conversation to bring up at a business/marriage proposal. Or when his potential fiancée was being so… unexpectedly easy to talk to.

He hadn’t seen Noctis since he was a spoiled, scourge-infected whelp of a boy, unsociable and afraid of anything but Luna’s calming company. Ravus remembered being envious of the attention his family gave to a stranger, a little spoiled himself at sixteen. He was loathe to admit to himself that he finally understood the appeal.

“It’s a good look for you,” Noctis said, quiet and unobtrusive and weirdly honest (weird because Ravus was not used to compliments that didn’t come with a mean backhand across the face of one’s self-esteem; that was how Niflheim did it).

“Don’t change the subject,” Ravus muttered, concealing the odd little warmth in his face behind his cup of coffee. “Do you agree to my terms or not?”

Noctis picked at the handle of his mug, searching through the details of the proposal in the swirls of creamer in his cup. “I’d really be allowed to come and go as I please? I could still live in Insomnia? I can’t imagine the Empire agreeing to that.”

“The Empire will agree to whatever public opinion demands. And, as I understand it, their opinion of you is very high.” Noctis ducked his gaze, an odd little avoidance of his own earned praise. Humility… What a strange thing to see in royalty. “The Emperor is no fool. He knows that he cannot take back his treaty without invoking the wrath of the people. This marriage is merely insurance that Niflheim retains some of its power over our respective kingdoms. But the independence and comforts of its beloved public figures must be assured, lest the people revolt in your defense.”

“That sounds great for me and everything,” Noctis said, lifting his eyes from the table to look at Ravus. “But what about you?”

…What _about_ him? Ravus’s eyes narrowed, puzzled by the question. Noctis was more intuitive than he had previously given him credit for.

“You’re stuck in Tenebrae,” he explained. “Luna gets to be the Oracle, I get to be the same as I’ve always been, but it doesn’t sound like you get to do what you want.”

What he really wanted was to have King Regis slain the same way his mother was, Glauca publicly beheaded, the Emperor put in a stockade to be pelted with rotten produce, and all of his subordinates in the Niflheim army locked into MA armor rigged to explode. But that wouldn’t be very conducive to peacetime stability now, would it?

“What I want is of no importance. Do you accept the conditions of the proposal, or not?”

Noctis looked at him for a long time, and Ravus had no idea why he was having a hard time holding that gaze. Too much like his sister’s? Too little? Too honest and open and unhindered by the learned deception of living under an unkind Empire? He didn’t know. And he honestly shouldn’t care. But when Noctis finally gave his answer, for some reason, Ravus found he did care. He cared a great deal.

“Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal. Let’s get hitched.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr post!](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/179726071117/a-casual-proposal)


	7. Prosper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis wants to have the wedding in Tenebrae. And Ravus, for once, is kind of happy about that.

“Want to have the ceremony in Tenebrae?” Noctis had asked.

He was more receptive to the marriage arrangements than Ravus ever might have expected, unbothered, like half the rest of the world was bothered, by the choice in spouse and the reasons behind it.

The reaction to their announcement was mixed to favorable. Which was, honestly, better than Ravus could have anticipated.

As a week being toured around Insomnia had proven, the public’s regard for Noctis had not merely been hearsay dribbled in beneath the Niflheim propaganda blocking Tenebrae from news of their neighbors. But as a week being toured around Insomnia had _also_ proven, the public’s regard for Ravus, on the other hand, was suspicious at best, resentful at worst.

Which he understood and had been expecting. He was not his sister. Nor was he a prince the likes of which they loved in their own sovereign. A decade spent in service to the Niflheim army, voluntarily commanding magitek to terrorize and further betray the people of Lucis, as their king had betrayed him, had not earned him any respect in the eyes of the Lucian people. It hadn’t earned him the trust of his own people either, abandoning Tenebrae to surrender and siding with the enemy that forced them to their knees.

It was a point of contention he mentally flogged himself with nightly, constantly left in doubt over whether the ends justified the means.

He did not doubt those means now. Weighted against all of the terrible things he’d done for the sake of his sister’s safety, marriage to a willing participant was the least of his sins. Let alone one with a soothsaying charm over any of his dissenters and a genuine enthusiasm for the upcoming nuptials.

Suggesting they get married in the gardens of Fenestala Manor, though, felt to Ravus like he was inviting calamity to march onto his home once again. The last time Fleuret and Caelum had stood united in Tenebrae, had been just that. The last time.

“I thought it might be nice,” Noctis said now, his soft-spoken words barely echoing up to the high ceilings of Fenestal Manor. “Rebuilding on the place where everything went wrong.”

Ravus couldn’t debate his logic. It was a sentimental, though surprisingly calculated move. Warming the hearts of that adoring public and daring Niflheim to break it, rubbing in their faces one of their worst affronts in the eyes of the people.

Ravus was… impressed by Noctis. The Lucian prince’s cooperation was an unexpected strength to their front against Niflheim. Ravus had no idea if his suggestions were intentional mockeries to the Empire they both loathed, or merely innocent ideas for a halfway decent wedding, but his involvement was nevertheless welcome.

In the days since his arrival in Tenebrae, tagged by a full retinue of Crownsguard and Kingsglaive and Lucian elite to ensure his safety in uncertain territory – Ravus was not blind to the hostile glances thrown his way – he was finding in Noctis a strange sort of partnership.

While it was still a gaping wound of a subject to think about, he wondered if this had been what it was like for his mother and Noctis’s father. Though he would only ever be a pale shade of his mother’s rule, Ravus dared himself to hope that the prosperity he remembered under that alliance, just before it was cut down, might resurrect itself once more.

“Rest assured that security for the ceremony will be impenetrable,” Ravus said, scanning every high window they passed, haunted by the thought of MT assassins crashing through them at any moment. “I’ve kept the best mercenary on retainer. We can… trust her and her crew to keep us safe.”

He wasn’t used to that word. Let alone in reference to Aranea Highwind, the bane of his existence in the Niflheim army. But as infuriating as her presence had been, always sliding from his shadow and slicing under his skin with her piercing tongue and shrewd eyes, she’d been the most honest colleague of his career. She saw things as they were, not as the Empire said they were. And much as he’d been looking forward to never having to suffer under her tricks again, he was secretly grateful that she remained in the Fleurets’ employ. If the Empire planned on going back on their word of peace, they’d find themselves caught hard on the barbed wire fence Aranea put between them and the wedding.

Presently, Ravus and Noctis overlooked the gardens where the event would take place. The tufted sheet of sylleblossoms stretching off into the horizon, Tenebrae’s cliffs spilling over with the blue blooms. He could see congregation of royal representatives and security – it would be small, private, with as little fanfare as they could manage against the public’s rabid curiosity. It wouldn’t be very romantic, Ravus being hesitant to have it last too long, and allow the Empire more time to attack if they were planning on it.

But it would be symbolic. Simple. And important for the world to see Tenebrae and Lucis as allies once more – more important for the Empire to see that they would not be controlled.

“Everything will be alright, Ravus.”

Ravus’s brow furrowed, slicking a glance towards Noctis. The Lucian prince watched him like a cat, wide-eyed and empathetic beneath the dark fringe of his hair, head turned slightly on its side. He had an arresting way of looking at him, seeing past Ravus’s mental armor as if he wasn’t wearing it at all. Ravus cleared his throat and averted his gaze, glaring out at the gardens as the spring breeze tickled the loose petals into the air.

“That remains to be seen. I trust we’ll both feel more at ease once Tenebrae is free and you’re safe to return to Insomnia.”

“Maybe,” Noctis said, smiling out at the cerulean drifts beyond. “But if it’s alright with you, I think I might stick around just a little while longer. Kinda seem like a dick if I ditched my husband right after the vows.”

Ravus did not laugh. He made sure he didn’t. But there was an odd little twitch at the corner of his mouth. A lightness in his chest as he envisioned the gardens decorated in white awnings and blue banners and the black suits of Lucian guards.

For the first time in a very, very long time… Ravus _hoped_. He hoped that it would happen. He hoped that they would make it to the end. And, at least for a little bit… he kind of hoped that Noctis stayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr post!](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/179755691067/prosper) hope you're enjoyed this little foray into grumpy ravus!

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr post!](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/179593050302/peace-and-quiet-and-tea)
> 
> It's long past #ravusweek for cross-posting to ao3, but October kicked my butt and I forgot the basics of my posting schedule lol Pieces will contain various characters, various relationships - generally platonic, but may be interpreted as romantic. All tags will be updated as I go along for your reading convenience!


End file.
